


Steve Rogers and the Marvelous Menagerie

by Spylace



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: A la Captain America, Alternate Universe - Circus, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Bucky has a tail tho, Captivity, Gen, Gun Violence, It's Free Willy, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, OTP Feels, Or is it Little Mermaid?, Period-Typical Bigotry, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, one of the two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-24
Updated: 2014-07-24
Packaged: 2018-02-10 04:18:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2010684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spylace/pseuds/Spylace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve starts work at a circus and becomes irresistibly drawn to a mysterious glass tower and the living mermaid inside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Steve Rogers and the Marvelous Menagerie

“Scrawny aren’t you?”

“Yessir.”

“It’s going to take hard work.” Mr. Phillips said, folding the newspaper in half and setting it aside. “It’s not just about painting pictures on the side of wagons, you’re going to have to cut out the boards and hang ‘em up yourself.”

Steve nodded.

“Whatever it is, I’ll do it.”

Mr. Phillips shrugged.

“Suit yourself.”

 

The circus was in town. That meant work for folks who were down on their luck and those who could afford to squeeze spare change from their pockets, lined up around the block just to get a glimpse of dames in tight sequins, the usual shouts from vendors and street hawkers broken up by raucous cheers.

Muttering under his breath, Mr. Phillips led Steve behind the heavy drapes to a temporary ring where animals were being led out to be groomed and fed, obstinate and miserable after days of travel, lips curling at the smell of petrol and sour sea water.

For some reason, Steve felt incredibly sad when he saw a lion with a bright red cone on its head, clearly unwilling to relinquish its prize to a man in a bowler hat.

“What’s that?” He pointed at a horse striped black-and-white.

“It’s a zebra.” Mr. Phillips answered with a grunt.

“Zebra.” Steve repeated. He should have brought his sketchbook. There were just so many things to see and draw. Like the magician who’d set the hoops on fire or the man on crutches running circles around a bear on a unicycle. In spite of himself, he could felt exciting building in his stomach that had nothing to do with nerves or a meal gone sour. Here was a chance to prove himself. If he did a good job, maybe Mr. Phillips would keep him on to paint the cages.

“If you need anything.” Mr. Phillips said. “Tell Dugan,” he nodded at the lion tamer. “Or any of the lazy sons of bitches around this place.”

“Um, thank you.” Before the older man could leave, Steve hurriedly asked, “Did Mr. Schmidt mention, what he wanted on the posters?”

The bushy eyebrows jumped past the thinning hairline. “Haven’t got a clue son. Just put some color into it. Something folks will like.”

“Right.” Steve said, mostly to himself. Sitting down, he got to work.

 

Every day, Steve came into the ring at nine o’ clock sharp to make portraits of acrobats flying through the air, a lion, a tiger and a bear dance to music. Jacques Dernier, the man on crutches who turned out to be the strongman, lifted a barrel and tossed it aside as a show of strength. Stripping off his shirt, he flexed his muscles for the imagined audience and held a hand up as a pretty blonde dame balanced on her stockinged foot and blew a kiss.

Steve clapped enthusiastically at the end of each act, his pencil worn to a stub. He had ideas, many ideas but he didn’t know where to start. The shows were amazing and the performers were all incredibly kind, plying him with fizzy drinks and sweets during breaks, helping him with wooden boards and freshly-painted murals.

Dum Dum, the lion tamer, admired his portrait greatly. The magician, Jim Morita, showed him a card trick Mrs. McAllister, his 90-year-old neighbor, swore up and down was Devil’s work.

But there was a sense of melancholy he couldn’t shake off, like they were mourning the death of a loved one that had yet to pass. He felt like an intruder in their grief even as they welcomed him, admired his drawings and posters. He just felt like they were hiding something like the ringmaster, Peggy Carter, who stared longingly at the sea but never accepted an invitation to the beach. Dernier, who was the fastest and strongest man he knew on crooked legs.

On opening night, Steve wandered. Stalls were set up all over the place, from fortune telling to ring toss. But Steve was curious about a smaller tent with the words ‘7 wonders of the world’ embossed on top. Inside were the usual curios, funny mirrors, taxidermy of creatures from far-off exotic places, things that never existed like dragons and manticores. At its center was a tall glass tower filled with swirling liquid. He touched it wondering if there was something inside. Maybe a mummy or a fish?

Steve jerked backwards at the thunk of something living on the other side of the glass. His heart beat a little quicker when he realized that there might be someone in the water. Someone in need of help. But the water was too murky and he couldn’t see anything. He pounded on the glass. “Hello? Is anyone in there!?”

A little ways away, he spied a ladder. He quickly pushed it up against the water tower and climbed. This time, the noise was accompanied by a shape. A very large shape, swells of alabaster and black like a wave crashing down on a night’s shore.

“Hello?”

A piercing cry made him trip and fall over. There was a platform on top he crashed into and he got soaked in the fishy water, coughing as some of it got into his lungs. A black fin knifed through the air and he became chilled as he recognized what it was.

“Oh.” He said as he lost his grip on the slippery edge and fell in.

Steve sank, weighed down by his jacket and trousers.

He never learned how to swim. Not like the other boys who would take whatever chance to go to the beach or the local pool. Black spots danced at the edge of his vision. Something bumped him on the hip and he looked to be snared by the pair of the most incredible blue eyes he had ever seen. Bubbles erupted from his mouth as an arm wound gracefully around his waist and took him back up.

“Found him!” Morita shouted when he resurfaced, head lolling against his savior’s shoulder. There was a splash as Miss Carter entered the water and he struggled in protest, stiff fingers trailing against another’s hand.

“It’s alright.” Miss Carter said in a lilting accent. “He’s alright.”

 

“Incredible.” Dr. Zola muttered as he checked him over. “That creature is vicious. Ve collected him in the polar waters of Russia. Look up. Good. Far from here. These creatures live in families but him.” The doctor spat in contempt. “He vas alone. Abandoned.”

Steve couldn’t believe that.

“What is he?”

Zola handed him a sweet-tasting syrup to swallow.

“He is Homo ichthys—a mermaid.”

 

“Hello?” Steve called, after closing hours. He pressed his forehead against the glass, trying to peer into the clouded blue. “I just wanted to thank you.” He said, raising his voice. “For saving my life.”

With an odd pulse sound, the mermaid appeared, suspended in the water.

“Oh wow.” Steve breathed.

Steve had only ever seen mermaids in books. But unlike the books, his savior was a man and had no scales. Instead, his tail was sleek and muscled, matted black with a white underbelly and rudder-like flippers extending from the waist. What he had mistaken for a shark’s fin sat tall at the middle of his spine, near where the human half was fused to its aquatic twin. The mermaid preened at his open admiration but soon lost interest, sinking to the bottom of the tank.

“Hey wait. Where are you going?”

“You won’t get his attention like that.” Said a sardonic voice.

Steve jumped.

“I would have thought this was the last place you would want to be after all the excitement this afternoon.”

“Miss Carter.” He stammered. “Sorry, I just wanted to thank him.”

Miss Carters smiled, amusement brimming in her liquid eyes. But again, sorrow sobered her features, adding weight to her classical beauty. “I wouldn’t take it too personally.” She clicked her tongue towards the glass tower. Nothing happened. “He’s quite wary of strangers.”

“He’s wonderful.” Steve said absentmindedly.

Miss Carter laughed.

“You have an admirer darling.”

“This,” he said hesitantly, measuring the glass tower with his eyes. “It’s a little small for him isn’t it?”

“Quite.” She answered. “He was born to swim the seven oceans, sing of storms as lullabies. But now he is here.” She put a gloved hand against the glass. “As we all are.”

Steve went to stand beside her.

“What’s his name?”

She placed a hand on his arm.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to find that out yourself.”

 

The show went on.

Soon, copies of Steve’s drawings were posted all over the city. There was always a feature in the papers about Mr. Schmidt’s circus and its troupe of performers. One interview asked the owner the secrets of his success. Mr. Schmidt replied—“I have an eye for talent.”. The article went on to proclaim the freshness of Morita’s tricks to how Dum Dum only needed to say a command before the animals instantly obeyed. It sang praises of Dernier’s strength in the face of adversity and Miss Carter’s masterful performance in tying all the acts together.

And they were all amazing. Steve just couldn’t get rid of the niggling feeling in his chest, the one that made his throat irritable and made him cough, that something was incredibly wrong.

It wasn’t until his third week at the circus he noticed that none of the core members, the ring master, the magician, the strong man and the lion tamer, left the circus. After the shows, they would all beg off, one by one, with excuses that they had other places to be. Used to this, the other performers did not bother to ask. But Steve felt disappointed after each rejection until Morita pulled him aside and told him under no circumstances was it his fault.

“We really don’t like crowds.”

“None of you?” He asked dubiously, thinking of the stage and the lights and the cheering crowds. Morita backtracked.

“Well it’s exhausting after the shows. We kind of like the peace... and the quiet.” He finished lamely.

“Okay...?”

“Tell you what.” Morita conceded magnanimously. “Stay behind after closing and I’ll teach you some more tricks. Deal?”

They shook hands.

“Deal.”

 

Morita single joy in life seemed to be pranking the audience. Dernier sometimes tossed his crutches aside and broke out into a dance, playing every instrument that was thrown his way. Dum Dum, as though he was a magician himself, could conjure up some of the most obscurest of requests from his back pocket though they disappeared soon afterwards in fistfuls of sand. Sometimes, late at night when all the bottles were polished off and Steve was feeling tipsy despite having none, Miss Carter would sing and it would bring tears to his eyes though he couldn’t say why.

“Ah c’est magnifique.” Dernier exclaimed when he saw the grayed band on the mermaid’s hip. He shifted to get a closer look and his foot came down hard on the metal deck, making it rattle throughout the ring.

Miss Carter glared from the grandstand and Dernier shrank back with a blush, hastily rearranging his trousers.

“Eh, oopsie?”

But more and more, Steve’s hands traced the broad stroke of a tail and the sharp features of the man behind the glass. Surprisingly, or unsurprisingly, Steve found himself unimpressed by the fact that the mermaid was real. He was fascinated, he was amazed. Steve just wasn’t as shocked as he thought he would be. It was just something he accepted—sky was blue, water was wet, his savior was a mermaid who was half human and half something else.

A curious whistle had him look up.

“Hey.” Steve smiled, holding up his sketchpad. “See, that’s you.”

The merman’s face, distorted by the water and the curved glass, folded into a paroxysm of a smile. Encouraged, Steve flipped through the pages and showed him more.

This was a good day. On the bad days, when the crowd had been too rowdy and there were scratches in the glass Dum Dum smoothed over in the evenings, Steve couldn’t even see the mermaid.

On those days, either Dernier or Morita would stand guard to dissuade any spectator from coming too close.

“What are you going to do Chinaman? You gonna make me disappear?”

Morita cocked his head.

“You know, I just might.”

With a snap of his fingers, the man disappeared. Everyone else who had been in the tent, broke into an applause.

There was a pattern to when the crowds came, how big they would be and what kind. Saturday and Sunday afternoons were a full house, the tent bustling with people, vendors selling cotton candy, popcorn and soda between the aisles. Pockets heavy with the weeks wages, most went through the ‘7 wonders of the world’ at least once, oohing and ahhing at the collection of dead and gnarled things.

Steve thought the mermaid must have been lonely. None of the performers ever came into the tent and only when they had to. They were too busy with the circus acts to stay for long. So while they dazzled the audience, Steve kept the mermaid company. He thought that the mermaid was a little fond of him at least, he hadn’t been drowned yet.

At a local library, Steve searched for what he could on mermaid lore. However, he did learn that the mermaid wasn’t a fish—his tail swept up and down rather than side to side—and that his pattern matched a species of whales that hunted along the pacific coast.

“Any relation?” He remarked absentmindedly, doodling a sweetly curved face and the white fingerprint over the eyes. The mermaid bobbed in the water to get a better look. Dark curls tumbled down his forehead, sticking against his chin and the back of his neck.

“Maybe.”

Steve stared.

“You can talk.”

The mermaid tilted his head, “’Course I can.”

“Oh.”

Gripping the edge of the platform, the mermaid bit his tongue. It was startlingly pink against his pale lips, the only hint of color anywhere on his face. “Could you...” he pointed, water dripping from the tip of his finger. It circled the air right under the whale’s flipper, careful not to wet the pencil drawing. “Right there, can you draw another one?”

A minute later, Steve showed him the picture. The mermaid hummed, pleased.

“You’re very good.” He complimented and sank back into the water.

Steve leaned over.

“Thank you!”

 

“I’m starting to feel jealous.” Dum Dum announced, bringing Steve lunch.

Steve accepted it gratefully and wolfed down the ham-and-cheese sandwich before setting the second aside. He brushed the glass with his knuckles.

“What does he eat?”

“Ah.” Dum Dum’s mustache twitched. “Seals but he normally eats fish for Peggy’s sake.”

There was an agreeable splash.

The next day, Steve climbed to the top of the ladder.

“Good morning! I brought you something.”

He wished that there was more light. Between his colorblindness and the darkness, punctuated by shafts of sunlight peeking through worn holes in the tarp, it was hard to see if the dark shape beneath him was the mermaid or just wishful thinking. From his bag, he took out a cod. It hadn’t exactly been the best looking fish, but it was fresh.

“I’m just going to leave this here alright?” Steve told the ripples. “So you can eat it whenever you’d like.”

“Why?”

Steve held his breath, mesmerized by the mermaid’s eyes. Unlike the dingy water he lived in, his were clear and crisp blue of mornings when sun was starting to warm the skies. A grin pulled at his mouth even as he backed away, leaving his offering on the edge of the platform.

“It’s only polite.” He replied. “You saved my life.”

Shrugging, the merman lifted himself effortlessly out of the water, flattening his massive flippers against the board. The wood creaked in protest at the added weight and Steve pressed a foot against the top rung of the ladder just in case.

The merman held the cod in his hand.

“Aren’t you going to have some?”

“Oh well, um.”

“Try,” The mermaid insisted, filleting the fish and handing Steve a piece. “You look like you need it.”

Raw fish didn’t taste half as bad as he thought it would. It was a little oily but tender and fresh.

“’S good.”

The mermaid crinkled his eyes.

“I’m Steve.” Steve said, wiping his mouth. “Steve Rogers.”

“I know.”

Steve waited a beat. Shyly, he asked. “What’s your name?”

They both tensed when they heard voices of people enteringthe tent. Logically, Steve knew there were people curious enough about the ’7 wonders of the world’ to pay the steep entrance fee. But he didn’t like how loud they were, oblivious to the mermaid’s presence.

“That is one ugly sumbitch.”

“It kinda looks like you Hodges.”

“Shut your trap.”

Mutely, the mermaid sank back into the depths. Steve saw that there were four people, picking up, touching, and examining the sundries of objects scattered throughout the tent. They paid him little attention, sitting on top of the ladder. But when they saw the glass tower, the big blond elbowed his friend in the side and said, “Watch this.”

Steve flinched when a rock sailed close by his face and landed in the water.

“Gosh.” A woman said. “There’s something in there!”

“Read it in the papers dolly.” The man wiggled his fingers. “Supposed to be a mermaid in there.”

“Horsefeathers.” The other man said. “There ain’t no such thing.”

Hodges shrugged. “Well we’ll find out won’t we?”

Before he could throw another rock, Steve interrupted,

“Stop that!”

The four simultaneously looked up.

Hodges, the big blond, scoffed and shook the ladder. Steve held on, stomach flopping as he scrambled on top of the platform. His hands were slipping again but this time, he knew the mermaid would save him. He kicked off a shoe, hitting the man square in the mouth.

“Ohh,” the friend said. “He got you good.”

Hodges turned and shook the ladder again, jumping up to grab Steve’s socked foot. “Get down here you little twit!”

The girls’ cheering was cut short when a crest of salt-sour water washed over them. They shrieked, their best blouses ruined. But his relief was short-lived as Hodges climbed the ladder.

“Stay right there you. I’m going to give you a good licking— _Jesus_!”

The man fell backwards as the mermaid slammed against the side of the glass. A crack spiderwebbed across the scratched surface just inches away from the blond’s nose.

Satisfied that he’d spooked the lot, the mermaid circled the tower before resurfacing, letting out a low pitch as though asking if he was okay. Dumbfounded, Steve could only stare as red washed down his face like a stripe of paint. Strong hands held him steady on the platform when the performers entered the tent, summoned by the girls’ panicked screams.

“Steven? Are you alright?”

“You again!” Dum Dum scowled, picking the two men up by their collars. “Get out of here.” Hodges and his friends didn’t need to be told twice.

“What happened?” Morita asked swiftly.

“It’s my fault.” Steve said. “He was trying to protect me.”

Miss Carter grimaced when she saw the crack. With gloved thumb, she rubbed at it as though she could somehow make it go away.

“Miss Carter please, he’s hurt.”

The ringmaster made her decision.

“Mr. Dugan.” Miss Carter ordered—“how many times do I have to say it, it’s Dum Dum.”—“inform Mr. Schmidt please.”

“Right.” And Dum Dum disappeared in a burst of smoke.

“Mr. Dernier, Mr. Morita.” The two men stood at attention. With a sigh, she said, “Help me drain this.”

 

The tarp was pulled back to allow more light into the tent. Under the open sky, Steve realized how claustrophobic the place must have been to the mermaid. He watched as the mermaid sank lower and lower to the bottom, his body bent into the shape of a horseshoe because the tower wasn’t nearly wide enough to accommodate his length. The cut on his forehead bled freely, darkening the pool.

In the water, the mermaid was almost weightless in his skinny arms. “Hey. Thanks again for, you know, saving me.”

“Punk.” The mermaid slapped the surface with his fin. “Learn to pick your fights.”

“Sorry Steve.” Morita apologized, gliding down next to him. “You’re going to have to move a bit.”

They shifted around, resting the mermaid’s head against the other man’s shoulder. The magician went at the cut and the mermaid shivered every time a needle went in. Steve rubbed his side, marveling at the smooth, rubbery texture.

The mermaid sighed and said, “It’s Ba’aaa...” There was a series of clicks and squeals at the end Steve couldn’t decipher. Morita coughed badly, hiding his amusement.

“Uhh...”

“’S my name.” the mermaid clarified.

“Oh um... I don’t know how to pronounce that.” Steve admitted. “I don’t think I can pronounce that. I’m going to call you Bucky. Can I call you Bucky?”

“Okay.”

 

“How long are we going to keep him like this?”

A specialist had been called in, a dapper man named Howard Stark who flirted with Miss Carter as the water gushed out from the bottom of the tower. In the background, Steve noticed a severe blur lean towards Dr. Zola. It must have been Mr. Schmidt, the owner.

He blinked in surprise when a tape measure was tossed in next to him with instructions to “measure him!”.

As though expecting it, Bucky stretched out in full, his tail pushed against the glass.

“Hey, watch it!” Stark complained when some of the water dotted the glass.

“Sorry!” He called, pinning the end of the measuring tape under Bucky’s tail and taking a rough estimate.

“Seven foot-five!”

He didn’t know what Zola was doing but found it odd that as a doctor, he wasn’t in the tank with Steve. In fact, both Zola and Mr. Schmidt seemed to stay away as far as possible.

Steve measured the width of the tower.

“It’s only seven feet.” He complained to Bucky.

Bucky nodded.

“Home sweet, home.”

Steve stared in disbelief.

“This can’t be right. You’re in a tank, a glass tank.”

Sensing that Steve was getting upset, Bucky pulled himself upright.

“I’m fine Steve. I’ve had worse.”

“I’m going to get you out of here.” Steve blurted out.

The merman’s eyes grew to the size of dinner plates.

“What...”

Drawing a deep breath, Steve said “I’m going to...”

Bucky kissed him.

It wasn’t exactly a kiss. Not that Steve had much experience in kissing. But this was more like bumping their faces together, their teeth clicking and none of the gentleness Steve expected of a kiss. Thankfully, the walls were dirty enough that the others couldn’t see through clearly. At most, it probably looked like they’d butted their heads together—he _hoped_.

Steve brought a finger to his mouth, his lips tingling from the contact.

“You can’t say shit like that!” Bucky hissed, clearly missing the point.

“You... you just kissed me.”

The merman gripped him by the elbow.

“Stevie, you promise me you won’t say anything like that again.”

Steve was still stuck on the kiss.

“But it’s wrong.” He said in bafflement. “You and...”

Something clicked inside his head. He looked around. Bucky, Miss Carter, Morita, Dernier, and Dum Dum.

“All of you?” He asked in a hoarse whisper.

The mermaid gave him a stilted nod.

“But...”

Bucky shook his head, his throat bobbing as he peered up at the sun.

“Not here.”

The water drained completely with a gurgle.

 

“Schmidt is a collector you see. His circus isn’t just a way to bring money, it’s a way for him to hide things.”

Steve was laid up with a cold for the next four days. Everyone came to visit. Mrs. McAllister made the sign of the evil eye when she saw Morita and Dum Dum. Dum Dum smiled and lifted his bowler hat, “ma’am.”.

“Like what?” Steve asked, spitting out the thermometer for Morita’s perusal. The Japanese man scowled when he saw the reading and heaped another ice pack on his head.

“Magical artifacts, objects of power no mortal should touch.”

“Like my lamp.” Dum Dum sighed, setting a giant bowl of soup at a table.

“Okay, that one’s on you.” Morita said. “You’re the one who leaves things where people can find them.”

“And what about you?” The larger man scowled. “You just decided to hand over your club to Schmidt?”

“He tricked me!”

“My pipe.” Dernier confided. “Brought people from miles away. The women—eh, tres belle.”

“You’re taking this surprisingly well.” Morita observed.

Steve sat up. “I got over it.” He wheezed, “I thought slavery was abolished?”

Morita snorted. “To Schmidt, we aren’t people.”

Miss Carter did not volunteer her story but said simply, “He keeps them for himself, like gift to the gods should they ever come to find us. Without them, we are powerless. So we stay here.”

Steve took a deep breath when he felt a coughing fit come on.

“But that’s horrible.”

The ringmaster’s lips curved into a depreciating smile.

“Welcome to Schmidt’s Marvelous Menagerie.”

 

Bucky’s pool had been cleaned. The mermaid drew alongside the glass in excitement when Steve came in, ducking behind the sign that said ‘do not enter’.

“Hey Buck.”

“Steve!” Bucky answered, punctuating the name with a series of clicks.“Your back.”

“Miss me?” Steve teased, pushing the ladder against the tank. Immediately, Bucky shot up to the surface, curling his body over the wooden platform as he waited for Steve to catch up. “Brought you something.” He blushed. “Heard that they were your favorite so...”

Bucky stared at the gift of herring and said softly, “Thanks Steve.”

But Bucky shied away as he ate, the fish disappearing whole into his mouth.

“What’s wrong? I swear, I won’t fall in this time.”

“Morita told me I got you sick.” Bucky muttered. “Said I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

Oh hell, had everyone seen that? Had Zola seen it? Had Schmidt?

“No, no, the kiss was fine.” His ears were on fire. “It’s just that I stayed too long in the water and...”

“Dammit Steve.” Bucky burst out. “You need to start taking better care of yourself.”

“I’m fine. I survived twenty years by myself before you came along and—”

“—I can’t believe you lasted twenty _days_ —”

“—I have a plan. I’m going to get you out of here.”

Bucky groaned and rubbed his face.

“Not this again.”

Steve was a little disappointed when Bucky didn’t interrupt with a kiss.

“This is ridiculous. Humans are ridiculous.” The mermaid denounced.

“Thanks.” Steve said dryly.

“And you’re the worse of them all.” Bucky accused. “Where did you even get the idea...”

“But you don’t belong here!” Steve argued. “None of you do!”

Bucky kissed him a second time, his plush lips soft and feather-light. A hint of tongue in place of teeth, a downward sweep of his eyelashes freckling his cheeks with salt, lacking the desperation and exigency of having his boss and coworkers standing around them in a circle.

Steve coughed.

“I see this is going to be a theme.”

“Quiet.”

Steve gave Bucky a disappointed look.

“You deserve to be free, go out there, look for your family.”

Bucky shuddered.

“What do you know ‘bout my family?”

“Zola told me they found you in Russia. Alone.”

“Oh they found me alright.” Bucky agreed bitterly. “Me and the rest of my pod. They killed everyone down to the last mother and calf. All for a piece of rock that doesn’t do jack squat. Everyone.” The mermaid emphasized. “The matriarch said it granted wishes. All it does is to destroy them.” He treaded the water in agitation before settling his icy gaze on Steve. “You’re going to get hurt Steve.” He said, swallowing past the lump in his throat. “And I can’t help you outside of this tent, I can’t.”

Bucky cupped the side of his face, fingers curling into his dirty blond hair in a gesture more intimate than the shock of his mouth against his own. “You’re the best person I know. Don’t be stupid.”

“How can I?” Steve’s voice wavered. “When you keep all the stupid with you?”

Miss Carter cleared her throat.

She looked grim.

“Steven, Mr. Schmidt wants to see you.”

 

At first glance, Mr. Schmidt looked like an ordinary businessman. Only the clown brooch pinned to his lapel gave hint to his true profession, the owner of a successful circus.

“Mr. Rogers.” The man addressed him when he entered the trailer. “I trust you have recovered?”

Steve ducked his head.

“Yessir.”

Mr. Schmidt handed him a check.

“This should cover the medical fees. I hope you understand, I’m quite horrified that this has happened at all but these are wild animals we deal with on a daily basis, quite unpredictable.”

“He’s not.”

“I... beg your pardon?” Mr. Schmidt asked, raising a fine eyebrow.

Steve should have shut up like Bucky told him to. But there were things that needed to be said and this was a good a chance as any. “They’re not animals. You know that.”

“Certainly,” Schmidt admitted, “our fair mermaid might look human, but his cognitive capabilities are far from those of human beings.”

“You’re lying.”

The man paused. Brushing imagined lint from his shoulder, he turned his back on Steve and peeled back the curtain letting shafts of sunlight to punch through the trailer. Momentarily blinded, Steve held up his hands, dust motes casting a gold halo around his skin.

Outside, Dum Dum and Morita traded fireballs, tossing them in the pond when they tired of the trick, the flames crackling as it dissolved into miniature fireworks.

“What do you see Mr. Rogers?”

Steve steadily met the other man’s gaze.

“I see two performers practicing for the next show.”

“But you are an idealist.” Schmidt corrected. “The truth is a harsh thing. It is impartial; it is up to people to make sense of it. What I see is a possibility. Of what those _people_ , nations would do if creatures such as these existed. People fear the unknown Mr. Rogers. There would be riots on the streets and your friends, Mr. Dugan, Mr. Dernier, Mr. Morita and Miss Carter will be the next bottle of scotch or bourbon to be confiscated by the providence of the government. Is that the world you’ve envisioned for your children, for your grandchildren?”

Steve felt sick as he found reason within the older man’s words.

“It’s their choice.” He said quietly.

Mr. Schmidt sighed. His fingers smoothed the curtain back.

“If I cannot persuade you, I think it would be terribly remiss of me to keep you in my employ—don’t you agree Mr. Rogers?”

The man sat down at his desk. Taking a key from around his neck, he reached down and inserted into a drawer which popped open with a soft click. A loud humming noise filled his head, too small to be the radio, too loud to be his imagination.

“I think.” Schmidt said, signing another check with flourish. “This will be more than enough.”

Steve looked down at the two checks in his hand.

“You’re firing me?”

“It would be for the best.” Mr. Schmidt said genially. “Mr. Dugan.”

“You called?”

Dum Dum appeared next to him from thin air, his skin glowing just a bit before it died down. Lacing his fingers together, Schmidt commanded “Please show Mr. Rogers off the premises. Make sure he doesn’t come back.”

“Your wish,” Dum Dum said reluctantly, squashing his bowler hat down on his head. “Is my command.”

 

“Wait, wait!” Steve rasped as he found himself in front of the circus tent, facing the pier and the afternoon crowd. But Dum Dum was like smoke; his hand simply passed through the other man’s hairy arms and came out the other side. “Please, let me at least say goodbye.”

The lion tamer shook his head.

“I can’t disobey Mr. Schmidt.” Inside, Steve was ready to scream. How was it that Dum Dum, Dernier, Morita, Miss Carter and Bucky, all talented, wonderful people, lived under the circus owner’s oppressive thumb? “Kid,” Dum Dum insisted, “I can’t.”

Something clicked.

“You won’t have to.”

Steve ran. For once, he was glad for his smallness. He ducked alongside a pair of boys idling at a stall and blended in with the crowd. Steve had no doubts that Dum Dum could find him if he really wanted to. But he hoped that his escape bought him some time.

Bucky let out a sharp tone when he saw Steve charge into the tent. People clapped appreciatively when they saw his black tail and the greyed band around his waist. Hurriedly, Steve climbed the ladder and pushed up to the platform.

“You’re back.” Bucky breathed in relief. There was a bruise blossoming across his temple right below the hairline. His sides heaved as he beached himself, his dorsal fin rising over Steve’s head. “What happened?”

“I um...”

“Steve?”

“I can’t see you anymore.”

At first, he thought Bucky hadn’t heard. The mermaid sat still, balanced on his elbows as his tail stirred the water. More and more people noticed them on top and started to point fingers. “Mr. Schmidt,” Steve said hesitantly and Bucky flinched at the name, slipping just a bit backwards as though physically struck. “He said I don’t fit.” A sudden cough of laughter rattled his lungs. “He fired me.”

“Good.”

Startled, Steve said “what?”

“Mr. Schmidt must know what he’s doing. If he says you’re bad for this place then I agree.”

“Bucky.” Steve said in protest, pushing himself along the platform.

Bucky flinched and went back in the water. His tail came up, the casual movement soaking everyone below.

“Oy!”

“What are you doing up there?!”

“Wow, a real mermaid!”

“Can’t be!”

A pitched whistle made everyone shut up.

“You don’t belong here.” Bucky told him, only the tip of his nose and his lips visible outside the water. His eyes were closed. He didn’t see the way Steve’s arms trembled or how he blinked away the dampness. “Go.” The mermaid said coldly. “And don’t come back.”

Steve fled.

 

“Hello?” Steve said suspiciously when a tall, black man stood in his doorway wearing a police badge. “Can I help you?”

“Are you Steven Grant Rogers?”

“Yes.”

“Were you in the employ of Mr. Johann Schmidt until Thursday last week?”

“That sounds about alright, what’s going on?”

With a nod, the man crooked his fingers backwards and soon they were joined by a third man. In a gentile accent, similar to Miss Carter’s, the man introduced himself. “My name is James Falsworth. I am a private investigator following up on a case of missing persons and I think you may be able to help. Please, may we come in?”

 

“Two years ago,” Falsworth said, boiling tea for Steve, Officer Jones and for himself. “A client came to my office and dumped a string of pearls in my lap. Told me she needed help finding her sister.”

“What does that have to do with the circus?” Steve asked, having made the connection to Mr. Schmidt. He let the mug warm his hands before sipping, the liquid too hot for him to do anything more than to blow on it.

“I believe,” the man declared, pouring milk into his cup and offering Officer Jones some more. “That the woman may be held captive in the circus. My client did not have a picture but I am reasonably sure I would be able to recognize her if I saw her.”

“Oh.” After a thought, Steve jumped out of his chair and dug under his bed. He took out a sketchbook and turned the pages.

“My word, these are quite good.”

He tore out four—five—pictures. All portraits. The ringmaster, the lion tamer, the magician, the strongman and the mermaid. “You’re looking for her.” He said, tapping Miss Carter. “But the other four, they’re missing too. You have to help them, please.”

 

A brisk knock on his door had him open it in bewilderment as Miss Carter walked in with a swish of her plaid skirt, arms full of strange gifts and groceries. “I wanted to know how you were getting on—we all did of course. Just because Schmidt has banned you from the circus does not mean I can’t visit.”

“I wanted to see you too, listen. Schmidt has a drawer in his trailer...”

“Filled with our possessions, I know. But the drawer is enchanted. You have no idea how many times we’ve tried to steal it.”

“What do you have in there?” Steve asked curiously as Miss Carter swept around his sparse apartment, pushing food into different places when it overflowed the cabinets. “No, give it here please.” Steve said. “Why don’t you sit down, I’ll make tea?”

“Thank you Steven, you’re a dear.” Miss Carter said, sinking down on the mattress. “Bucky sends his love.”

Steve slumped.

“Did he really?”

“Well the sentiment was there.” Miss Carter said primly. “Poor boy, I think he’s completely smitten. I do hope you’re not going to turn him down.”

Steve decided that silence was the better part of valor.

“Your two friends came by the way. But Mr. Schmidt called the police department and well, that was the end of that. I never imagined...” She stopped, hands shaking a little as she picked the kettle up. Her fingers closed into a fist. “When I was young, me and my sister went to the beach. Oh our parents warned us, told us it was dangerous for us to take off our skins. But we were so terribly curious about the human world. It seemed like a grand adventure. We assumed it would be alright for us to step ashore for just one minute.” The corners of her eyes grew slanted. “We were wrong.

“I escaped.” She continued. “My sister did not. And the sight of her caught, twisting in a net was too much for me to bear. Perhaps I was taking the coward’s way out from my parents’ grief. I parlayed with them, persuaded them to make the trade. My sister was free.”

Steve gently put his hand on hers.

“That was very brave of you.”

“Brave?” She shook her head. “No. Had I known better, I would have bit their throats and drowned them. I would not have tried to reason with Johann Schmidt.”

“Can’t you just.” Steve winced. “Run away?”

Miss Carter snorted, dropping crushed sugar into her tea.

“What is a selkie without her skin? I do not belong in your world but neither do I to the ocean.”

Steve took a deep breath.

“If you got your skin back, could you run away?”

“In a heartbeat.”

His mind was whirling, a blank canvas for him to draw on.

“I have an idea. But we’re going to need help.”

 

On a bright Friday morning, Steve walked up to the police department and asked for Officer Gabe Jones.

 

Howard Stark proved much more difficult to recruit.

“You want my help with what?”

“I need you to make an excuse to go back in.” Steve pleaded.

Stark spun around in his chair.

“And why would I do that? What’s in it for me?”

“Police.” Jones said, flashing his badge. Falsworth stood smug at his side. “We need you to cooperate.”

Howard pouted. “Spoilsport.”

 

Steve snuck into the circus as a spectator, cheering at all the right moments, clapping when the tiger jumped through the flaming hoop. He gave Miss Carter a thumbs up when she looked his way and she smiled, a brief flash of her teeth as she introduced Morita into the ring.

When the show ended, Steve went to the ‘7 wonders of the world’. He noticed that the ground was already wet, a foot of water missing from the glass tower. The platform was dry, slightly sticky from the salt. Bucky came up, a bruise marring his square jaw.

“Why?” He snapped, twisting inside the width of the tower to see Steve better. “I thought I told you to stay away.”

“Because we’re friends.” Steve answered gently. “Because you don’t deserve this, not even when you’re being stupid.”

Bucky grimaced. “You don’t get it. You’re so gosh darn young. We’re used to this. You, you have your entire life ahead of you.”

“You know better than that Buck.” Steve said, admitting the reality for what it was. He reached down and touched the bruised chin, fingers sliding off when Bucky spread his hand slow against the side of his neck, thumbing his pulse as though it might stop at that very second.

“Don’t do this.”

“Don’t be so selfish.” Steve scolded. “It’s not just you, it’s for everyone.”

“It’s different.” Bucky argued. “You’re different.”

Steve beamed.

“I know Bucky. That’s why I have to do this.”

 

“We’re ready.” Miss Carter informed them at the beginning of the show. Addressing Jones and Falsworth, she informed them “You must realize, you cannot confront this man.”

“’S my job ma’am.” The officer said, still smarting from the dressing down he received from the chief.

Miss Carter shook her head.

“Our lives weren’t the only things he collected. He has powers of his own.”

“Can he block bullets?” Jones asked frankly.

“He doesn’t have to.” Was the rejoining answer.

 

“Repairs, this late at night.” Schmidt said in a patronizing voice. “I thought you were the best Mr. Stark. That is why I hired you.”

Stark bristled. Behind him, Jones and Falsworth kept their heads low.

“That’s why I’m doing this for free. Look, are you going to let me do my work or not?”

“This is highly irregular.” Dr. Zola wheedled as he led the three to the ‘7 wonders of the world’. On cue, Bucky began to thrash in his glass tower. Water cascaded down the curved walls and Stark jumped backwards, only half-faking.

“Christ, you’ve got to get him out of there.”

“You worked fine the last time.”

“Well it obviously wasn’t fine or otherwise I wouldn’t be back here.”

With Schmidt distracted, it was time for them to move.

Everything in the trailer had been enchanted to ward of magical beings. Morita and Dum Dum had to stay outside and keep watch while Steve, Dernier and Miss Carter snuck inside. Thankfully, nothing in the layout had changed since he’d been fired. Steve let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and walked around the desk and crouched down. He tugged at the drawer. Locked.

“Maybe Mr. Schmidt has an extra key?”

Dernier tilted his head and started to look.

“C’est un bon idee.”

But before they could dig through anything, Miss Carter had pulled the drawer out.

“How...”

She snorted, neatly pinning her hair back into a bun.

“You can’t rely on magic for everything.”

“Ah mon cherie!” Dernier cried, snatching up the pipes from the pile.

Morita poked his head inside the doorway.

“Got it? Hurry up!”

“Oho,” Dum Dum exclaimed, when he saw his banged up genie lamp. “I’ve missed you.”

“Is everything here?”

Steve asked urgently.

“And a couple of others.” Morita commented grimly, holding out fistfuls of gold dust.

“And this,” Miss Carter said, pulling back the folds of her skin to reveal a blue star. The glass burned cold with the blink of a flame revolving lazily at its center, eternal and everlasting, like the essence of the ocean caught in a cube.

At once, they were bathed in a blue glow as though there was a living star inside it, eternal and everlasting.

“This must be Ba’aaa...” Everyone stared at the clicks and squeals added to the end. “Really,” Miss Carter sniffed. “It only takes a bit of practice.”

“I like Bucky better.” Morita opined.

“Vhat is this? Vhat are you doing?”

Dr. Zola slumped to the ground.

“Man,” Morita beamed, holding up his club. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

“Gentlemen.” Miss Carter sighed, sounding suspiciously like she was trying to suppress a smile. “Come, we do not have much time.”

 

The tank was almost empty by the time they reached the tent. Howard had rigged up electric lights on the floor and beside them, Bucky laid still, his breathing shallow and ribs clearly showing. Steve choked back his confusion and knelt at his side, cloaked behind Dum Dum’s illusion.

“Bucky?” He whispered.

Bucky let out a sigh. Not moving an inch, he proclaimed, “Stevie you dumb. Crazy. Kid.”

Steve grinned wildly. “I missed you too.”

Outside, screams started as the main tent burst into flames. Morita had conjured most of the performers and workers to safer locations. But there were a few stragglers left behind for effect.

“What is going on here?!” Schmidt roared as he ripped the tent flap aside.

Morita appeared beside Steve.

“Go, go, go!”

With a flick of his club, Morita loaded Bucky on the back of Stark’s pickup truck. The car sank beneath the mermaid’s weight. Already in the driver’s seat, Officer Jones joked, “Your boy needs to lose some weight.”

“Stop!” Schmidt commanded but Morita was on him in a second, his slim silhouette bulging into that of a giant that made the trees shake and people run in the opposite direction.

Miss Carter clung tight to the door as Officer Jones made a steep turn, flinging Steve against Bucky’s back. “Watch it!” The mermaid snarled, hugging Steve between his flippers.

Miss Carter pointed to the end of the pier. “There!”

The truck burst into flames.

In a swift second, Officer Jones grabbed Miss Carter and rolled out of the truck. They hit the sandy embankment and Bucky hurriedly pushed Steve into their waiting arms. “Go!”

Steve clawed at the side of the truck.

“No, not without you!”

But Miss Carter was tugging him towards the tide which promised safety and home. The seal skin clutched tight to her breast, she pulled and pulled until their feet hit the whitewashed foam. Under the pier, they saw Bucky roll off the back of the truck at the very last second and cover his head as caustic smoke washed over him.

Burdened by his tail, he dragged himself along the beach until—

“This is almost too easy.”

Each bullet landed like a hammer blow Steve felt deep into his bones. Schmidt walked beside Bucky watching his progress as the mermaid left deep tracks and a dark stain in the sand, his blood painting the white of his underbelly black in the moonlight.

“You killed my family.” Bucky rasped, focused solely on the open water. “Why did you let me live?”

“Let you?” Schmidt chuckled. “Ridiculous. I let you do nothing. You did not die.”

Bucky let out a scream and came to a jerky stop. He was nearly at the water’s edge, his fingers bobbing in the waves. Raising his voice, Schmidt called, “I know you are there. If you wish to save your friend, give me the cosmic cube.”

Before he could say anything, Miss Carter hissed “No Steve, that’s suicide.”

“Can you really say you wouldn’t do the same for your sister?”

From the beach, Bucky warned “Don’t you do it Steve! Don’t you dare—!”

The silence cut him worse than the asthma attacks or his trampled pride when he was rejected one too many times. Hugging the pier, Steve swam and fell at Bucky’s side, trying to lift him back into the sea. His jacket let out a soft squelch, warmth seeping into his skin. It was blood, Bucky’s blood.

“Bucky.”

Schmidt raised an eyebrow.

“The cube?”

Steve glared and threw the thing at the man’s feet.

“Take it.” He spat. “It’s yours.”

“Stop right there!” Falsworth shouted, looking down from the pier. He held a pistol with an unsteady hand, he was limping, an arm wrapped around his middle.

“I think not.” Schmidt shot at him and the detective returned fire.

Steve turned his attention back to Bucky as he struggled to breathe, trembling as he groped the sand. He tried to stop the bleeding but there was no Morita to stitch his wounds this time. No Dernier to simply carry him into the waves. Bucky pushed at him weakly with his head. The mermaid mouthed, ‘go’.

At that moment, Steve made a wish.

Schmidt leaned down to pick up the cube. There was a curious absence of sound as the light contracted into a single point, the impression of heat sucking oxygen from the air. The man dissolved, his hand igniting with silver-wrought veins. With a burst of adrenaline, Steve pulled Bucky into the water.

When the dust settled, Schmidt was gone. No trace of him or the cosmic cube. Zola had long fled the scene and Officer Jones fell on the beach, grinding the heel of his palms into one eye.

“Nobody is going to believe this.”

“I’ll vouch for you.” Falsworth said shell-shocked.

“Steve?” Bucky said faintly, dazed from the explosion.

“Yeah Bucky.”

“I thought you were smaller.”

“Um...” Steve looked at his hands. They did look a little different.

“Steve, what did you wish for?”

“Uh...”

“Steve!” Bucky barked.

“I just wanted to save you!” Steve protested.

“Ah, young love.” Dernier said from beside Falsworth. The foreign detective edged away, perhaps unnerved by the Frenchman’s cloven hooves. One by one, others came down to the beach to stare at Steve and Bucky lying at each other’s side.

“Ugh,” Dum Dum groaned, sporting a black eye. “Anyone see the car that hit me?”

Steve now had tail. Alabaster and black except the pale band behind Bucky’s fin was thin, curled like a hook. His sat wide like a diamond shield.

“You idiot!” Bucky shoved at him. “Take it back, right now!”

Steve shoved back.

“No!”

“Why the hell not!”

“Because you’re beautiful and I like it when you smile!”

Badly disguised laughter rang around the beach.

Dumbstruck, Bucky opened and closed his mouth several times. He clicked his teeth shut with a jerk and growled, “Anyone ever tell you you’re a sap Rogers?”

“Just you Bucky.” Steve said cheerily, sensing a battle won. He breathed into the salty foam but his new lungs didn’t hurt. Bucky held him up when he started to slide backwards, winding their tails together. Their flippers overlapped, the wave washing over them. “Just you.”

 

Miss Carter thanked Steve profusely and returned home, accompanied by Detective Falsworth. Dernier went back to his native France. Dum Dum swore he would never let his lamp be sold again. Morita decided to travel, “there’s a whole world left out there for all of us. If you ever need me, call.”.

They all said their goodbyes. The last will and testament of Steven Grant Rogers carried out by Officer Gabe Jones and Howard Stark, inventor.

Steve had no real regrets about leaving his former life behind. Not having a sketchpad and a pencil on hand sucked but Morita had said it the best. There white capped dunes that had never known the pitter-patter of human feet. Turtles that towed them obligingly when they tired. Fish that shared their meals.

They swam across four oceans and the seven seas. Bucky never found his family but they did meet people like them, people with fins in place of feet. They also met up with Miss Carter in the British Channel, frolicking with her family though they gave Bucky a wide berth.

“I’m happy.” Steve said easily when Bucky stuck his tongue out, snowflakes landing in his mouth. Startled by his sudden appearance, the penguins slipped, slid and scrambled to the other side. “Jerk.” he added, when one of them tumbled into the water. “Still think I’m an idiot?”

“I always was.” Bucky said seriously and meant it.

He grunted when Steve rested his mouth over his own, still unused to how people showed affection but maybe better for it because every interaction was new. Touching Bucky never failed to elicit sparks up his thickened hide. It was embarrassing how visibly he reacted but there was no one to see, point or laugh. This wasn’t wrong, this was just him and Bucky.

“I love you.” Steve said because it felt right. He pushed Bucky against the calving ice, never losing the sense of wonder his new body brought him. Even in the Antarctic, he could barely feel the cold. It merely tingled a little as ice washed off his back. But when he was with Bucky, touching chest to chest, belly to belly, tail to tail, closer than they would have been had they been creatures of legs and feet, Steve felt warm. He remembered the night at the circus when he first met Bucky.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Dear self, happy belated birthday.


End file.
